


137. Dinner and dessert

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [137]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1322257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	137. Dinner and dessert

_**Sam Worthington and Ryan[](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/) : dinner and dessert** _   
**players only. takes place Friday night, after[Sam sweeps Ryan away for his birthday weekend.](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/31563.html)**

They make good time despite the stop, Sam slotting the car in under a lovely vine-wrapped carport behind the bed and breakfast, with twenty minutes to spare before dinner. He touches Ryan's cheek, leaning across to kiss him softly on the mouth before whispering, "Hey sleepyhead. We're here."

"Hmm?" Blinking his eyes open, Ryan looks around. "Oh, hey." He sits up and grins. "We made it? I didn't make us late?"

"Nope. We have about twenty minutes till dinner so we can get checked in, make sure you're happy with the room, get changed..."

"Awesome." Ryan climbs out of the car and grabs their bags, taking another look up at the building. "This place is beautiful. How did you find it? Through Citadel?"

Sam nods. "The owners are members but they run this place as a vanilla business most of the year, with a few weekends put aside for Citadel. We sort of lucked out with this being one." He takes his bag from Ryan and wraps his arm around his lover's waist as they walk up around to the front. There's a doorman on duty and he asks for ID, checking Sam's Citadel card before admitting them. "I guess he turns away anyone they're not expecting."

"Cool." Ryan still can't help but shoot the man a nervous glance -- he feels like he's intruding on some sort of sacred Colonial ground. At any moment, a preacher might burst out and scream at them about hellfire. He nuzzles Sam's neck while his lover gets them checked in.

"Top floor," the girl on reception says, handing Sam a key. "Our Blue Mountain View room. Your dinner reservations are at 7 but since you're here, don't worry about coming down a little later." She smiles at them both. "Would you like some help with your bags?"

"No, we're good, thanks," Sam says, taking Ryan's free hand and leading him upstairs.

The suite Sam unlocks takes Ryan's breath away. Gorgeous antique furniture, a huge sleigh bed, a luxurious bathroom with unbelievable vaulted ceilings. "Sam..." he says, checking his bag for dirt before he dares set it down on the carpet next to a carved armoire. "This is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it," Sam says, wrapping his arms around Ryan's waist and kissing him thoroughly. "There's another suite that's actually the master but it doesn't have the view this one does. Not that you can see it right now," he adds with a laugh.

But of course Ryan has to glance out the darkened windows anyway. "Are we facing east? I bet the sunrise will be incredible tomorrow," he tells Sam, then laughs at himself. "I guess you'll want to sleep in, though."

"Not tomorrow," Sam says and kisses Ryan again. "We have plans."

"Early plans?" Now that's intriguing. Usually Sam grabs every second of a sleep-in that he can on his days off. Ryan grins, linking his fingers with his lover's. "So, are we dressing for dinner?"

"I was gonna change into a dress shirt, maybe some chinos and a jacket," Sam says, glancing at his t-shirt and jeans. "But I didn't bother bringing a tie or anything."

"I'm crushed," Ryan teases, but hell, getting Sam out of his black Megadeth tee will already be a huge step towards formal. "I'll wear one for both of us," he says turning away to open his bag.

"And I'll gag you with it later," Sam promises, disappearing into the bathroom to quickly wash up.

"Tease," Ryan mutters, a delighted grin on his face. He lays his clothes out on the bed and changes into a gray suit, blue striped necktie on top of a snowy white shirt. Sam has already implied that they'll get dirty tomorrow, so he's guessing tonight's the night to look presentable.

"Hey, look at you," Sam says when he comes back out, shaking his head. "You sure want to be seen with me?" he asks, switching out his jeans and t-shirt for a black shirt, black trousers and a dark blue sports jacket.

Ryan makes a soft sound like he's been punched in the gut. "Yeah," he says a moment later, nodding, still trying to get his brain back in gear after it gets stuck on _Fuck he's gorgeous_. He reaches out and pulls Sam close, kissing along his lover's throat. "Definitely."

"You're just happy I don't look like Sasquatch any more," Sam teases, sliding his hands down Ryan's back to cup his lover's ass and squeeze.

"It really wasn't your best look," Ryan mumbles, like it ever held him back anyway.

Sam laughs and kisses Ryan. "You're my best look," he murmurs. "You on my arm, no one even bothers looking at me."

"Yeah, right." Ryan grins and rests his head on Sam's shoulder, sternly reminding himself that they're going to have a nice dinner and he's not going to ruin Sam's plans by jumping him before they ever leave their room. "Okay. Ready."

Linking their fingers together, Sam locks up the room behind them. Back downstairs in the lobby, the same girl who greeted them at reception sees them to their table at the back of the dining room, just off to the side of the roaring fireplace. She hands them each a menu and pours two tall glasses of water. "Lily will be with you in a minute."

"Thank you," Ryan says automatically, turning to watch her go. Then he opens his menu and schools his expression. Usually when Sam takes him out for dinner, it's a homey no-suit atmosphere, where the food is wholesome and delicious. These prices are much higher than what he's used to looking at, much more similar to those of an actual Citadel restaurant. He makes his choice quickly and then closes his menu, looking around the lush dining room and soaking up every detail.

"What are you having?" Sam asks, noticing Ryan's already closed his menu.

"Uh, the roasted striped bass - it says they catch it locally - with mussels." Ryan folds his hands on the table and gives Sam a smile, unable to get over just how stunning his lover looks, in the flickering firelight, no less. "What about you?"

"I'm trying to choose between the duck and the pork tenderloin," Sam says, still reading the descriptions for both. "You want champagne or wine with dinner?"

"Wine. Champagne always gives me a hangover, even if I don't have that much." Ryan looks casually around the room, his gaze falling short on a collared and corseted young man sitting at his master's knee. They're both fully clothed. But it doesn't diminish any of the tender eroticism of the scene as the master reaches down to hand-feed his slave morsels from the table. Ryan's hand goes to his throat, to the chain necklace warmed by his skin. "I guess I could have asked you to put my formal collar on me," he murmurs. "Sorry, I didn't think of it."

"You look beautiful," Sam says, reaching across the table to touch Ryan's hand. "And I don't think anyone doubts you belong to me." He starts to say more but a young woman stops by their table.

"Good evening, I'm Lily." She smiles at them both, doing a slight double-take at Sam before quickly composing herself. "I'll be your server this evening. May I get you gentlemen a drink?"

Sam checks with her about the house wine and with a nod from Ryan, orders a bottle. "And my boy will have the striped bass and I'll have the duck, please."

"Certainly, sir," she says with another smile. "I'll be right back with your wine."

Ryan smiles at his lover. "I was going to suggest that maybe they thought you belong to me," he teases, not meaning it for a second. He raises Sam's hand to his lips and licks at his fingertip. "But I think you just settled that question."

Sam grins. "Why? Because I ordered for you?"

"Because you ordered for your _boy_ ," Ryan tells him with a grin. He sucks the tips of two of Sam's fingers into his mouth. "Like you didn't even have to think about it."

"I don't," Sam says, groaning softly, his eyes on Ryan's mouth, his fingers. Christ. "You're mine. I own you."

A shiver moves through Ryan at the power of those words. And fuck, what the hell is he doing? At this rate he'll be begging in a mere minute for Sam to let him drop under the table and blow him, when he knows he's supposed to be behaving. He takes his lover's fingers deeper.

"That's it, boy," Sam says, keeping his voice low, his words for them alone. "Suck them. Suck them like you would my cock."

Ryan moans softly. His fingertips flutter over the inside of Sam's wrist, then curl against the tablecloth. He lets his eyes slip shut and he licks hungrily at the vee between Sam's fingers before sucking them all the way in, his lips on his lover's hand. Again and again he swallows, his cock throbbing with arousal inside his trousers.

"Here's your wine, sir," Lily says, suddenly stopping still right in front of the table. "Oh. I'm sorry. Um."

"It's okay. Are you new?" Sam asks, wondering if she's employed by the bed and breakfast or by Citadel. "Keep going," he tells Ryan.

"Yes, sir. I just started at the mansion in New York. They sent me out here for my first weekend because they thought I might find it easier," Lily says, aware she's babbling, unable to stop staring at the other man sucking on Sam Worthington's fingers.

Tuning out the chatter, Ryan sucks -- but he does try to keep it quiet. No sense in embarrassing the girl even more, although she's clearly going to have to get over it, and fast if she wants any kind of career with Citadel. He eases back just to nibble at Sam's fingertip, gently biting the pad and then soothing the sting away with his tongue.

"It's okay to look," Sam tells her. "Even to stare -- after all, how many of us would be here if we didn't want to be watched on some level," another soft groan spilling from him, every single touch of Ryan's mouth going straight to his cock. "But you need to keep serving or ask if we'd like you to come back."

"Okay," she says. "Would you like me to come back?"

"No." Sam grins.

Lily smiles. She uncorks the wine and pours a little for Sam, standing there, watching them openly now that she has permission, waiting for his approval.

"Delicious," Sam says. "You can pour two glasses."

"Yes, sir, thank you," she nods. "Would you like me to have the kitchen hold your food?"

"No, we're fine. Bring it out whenever it's ready." When she's gone, Sam reaches across the table to stop Ryan, his thumb pressed against his lover's bottom lip. "Move your chair over here, beside me."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, his face flushing. He gets up and moves his chair across the thick rose-patterned rug. His breath hitching, he sits as close as he dares, carefully laying his hands on his knees to keep control of himself until he has further permission.

"If this were Citadel, I'd have you over the table now," Sam tells him, watching Ryan closely.

A shiver moves through him, and Ryan nods. "Yes, Sir," he whispers again. He licks his lips and looks up to meet his lover's eyes.

"But since it's not," Sam says, slipping his hand between Ryan's thighs and cupping him through his trousers. "I'll have to satisfy myself other ways..."

"Oh, god." Ryan swallows hard and fists his hands tight on the edges of his chair. "Sir," he whispers, subtly shifting into Sam's touch.

"Yeah?" Sam smiles, eyes sparkling, and unzips Ryan's trousers, sliding his hand inside.

Ryan nearly melts on the spot, but he tries to fucking keep it quiet. "Oh, god," he whispers, rubbing his cock lightly against Sam's hand. "God, please. Please, Sir, more."

"More what?" Sam grins, wrapping his fingers around Ryan's cock and squeezing. "I can't hear you, boy."

"Please," Ryan moans, unable to hold himself back anymore from licking at Sam's neck, biting gently at his throat. Tasting him. Trying to take his lover into himself. "Please touch me more."

"And what?" Sam asks, touching Ryan, his strokes long and hard and steady. Tempted to call his boy on touching him but it _is_ Ryan's birthday weekend. "Is this one of your three times or are you gonna take the chance I might not let you come at all?"

Ryan whimpers. _Fuck_. He wants so fucking badly to come, but knows damn well that if he does it now then he'll be stuck with wet shorts and wet trousers for the remainder of their dinner in a fine restaurant, and their entrees haven't even arrived yet. "Fuck," he mutters, dropping his forehead to Sam's shoulder -- which only reminds him that there will be no climbing into Sam's lap afterwards, either. "No," he whispers, his body rigid and unmoving even as his lover keeps up the torment. "Not now. Thank you, Sir."

"Not now?" Sam continues stroking, twisting his wrist, nail digging into the slit. "Does that mean you're gonna beg me to stop?"

 _Fuck fuck fuck!_ Ryan sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying like hell not to draw attention from the other diners. "Please, Sir," he gasps, feeling precome pulse up onto Sam's fingers. "Oh god, please stop." He's so damn confused, can't even believe he'd ask for such a thing. "Mercy."

"You don't have a safeword, boy," Sam reminds him, teasing, unwilling to stop until he catches Lily coming towards them again with their food. And then, just like that, he releases his hold on Ryan's cock and sits back, warning Ryan, "Keep it out."

"Wha--" Ryan stares at his lover, stunned. He drops his gaze to his hard-on which pokes lewdly from his trousers, and then looks back up at Sam in horror. And fuck his face is _flaming_ now. "Sir," he whispers desperately, shooting a glance to the side. "Here?" No matter that it's technically a Citadel facility for the weekend, and so the other diners are likely used to it. It's still _not_ Citadel. Not quite the same.

"Yes, here," Sam says, smiling as Lily sets down their plates, quite enjoying the look on her face as she glances at Ryan's lap, sees his cock, exposed, hard and rigid, with the metal ring through the slit.

Lily blushes, shifting a little, not quite sure to react, but at the last moment her training saves her. "Can I get either of you gentlemen anything else?"

"No, thank you," Ryan mumbles, staring down at the tablecloth like he can burn a hole through it.

"No, we're good for now," Sam says with a smile, watching her leave. "That one's going to end up with a cuff on her wrist," he tells Ryan. "Probably only two stripes but still."

Ryan shuts his eyes, trying to force back his mortification. "I thought about doing that," he murmurs, lifting his fork and poking at the mussels on his plate. "Entering training to become a house slave. I mean, I thought I'd be good at it, mostly. But I worried it wouldn't leave me enough time for writing," he explains. "And I guess, ultimately it bothered me too much -- the idea that I wouldn't have any choice who was on top of me."

"I think that has to be something that turns you on or that you can cut yourself off from," Sam says, watching Ryan closely. "You know, I wouldn't have done that if it wasn't obvious she was turned on. If she was just freaked out, I would've kept things under the table, but if you look over there, right now, she's watching us, hoping we'll do something more or that she'll have an excuse to come back."

"Don't make me look," Ryan pleads in a whisper. God, watching Lily watch them, knowing that she's embarrassed and aroused at the same time, just like he is... "Do you want to invite her back to the room, or something?"

"Do you want me to?" Sam says, sliding one hand back up the inside of Ryan's thigh. "She could watch me fuck you and then we could both fuck her or I could see if anyone has a harness. Let her fuck you too."

"I asked you first," Ryan mutters, barely loud enough to be heard. And he knows that's no kind of answer, not to a direct question from his sir, but he hardly knows what the fuck he wants right now. Except to climb into Sam's lap and rub all over him, and that's something he simply can't have at this moment.

"And I'm ordering you to answer," Sam says firmly, hooking his little finger into Ryan's P.A. and giving it a sharp tug.

Ryan cries out at the sudden harsh flash of pain, and his skin crawls instantly with the knowledge that now several of the guests are _staring_ at him. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "Please." He searches Sam's eyes in a panic, trying to see if there's any real anger there. "She can come with us if you want. Of course she can." God, everything he says all of a sudden is wrong. "Sorry."

Fuck. Sam shakes his head, unhooking his finger and placing his hand on the back of Ryan's neck. "No, I'm the one who's sorry," he says softly, so fucking softly, pulling Ryan in closer, his words for him alone. "I shouldn't have pushed. I didn't realize you were so uncomfortable."

Whimpering, Ryan rubs his cheek against Sam's shoulder, trying to soak up solace. Trying to settle himself once more. He's not used to this, not used to having the lines so thoroughly blurred: usually, only two kinds of locations exist. There's the place where Sam can tease him from afar, but they don't touch. And then there's the place where Sam can all-out torment him, but Ryan can wrap himself around his lover like he's going to smother him -- well, he can beg for it, anyway. Here he's somehow caught between the two extremes, and he doesn't know how to fucking find equilibrium.

"It's okay," Sam says softly, feeling like a heel. Holding Ryan even closer. "We're just going to have dinner and then go back upstairs," he murmurs, tucking Ryan back into his trousers the best he can and zipping him up. "You think you can eat?"

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers. He doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with him. But god he feels like an asshole for fucking up... something, he's not even sure what, at this point. Mechanically Ryan picks up his fork and knife and starts to cut his striped bass into even bite-sized pieces.

Sam watches Ryan for a long minute then starts in on his own meal before it gets cold. "Did you bring your hiking boots?" he asks, after a bite or two, nudging his shoulder gently against his lover's.

"Yeah." Ryan nods and takes a sip of his wine. "And I checked the weather predictions and they said there's something like a forty-percent chance of rain in this area tomorrow, so I brought some heavier clothing as well, just in case we wake up and it's really cold and wet." He puts a bite of food into his mouth and manages to chew and swallow without choking.

Shit. "That doesn't bode well for my surprise," Sam says with a sigh. "Forty percent?" Maybe it'll hold off until after.

"Well. It's a sixty-percent chance it _won't_ rain," Ryan points out with a small smile. He watches Sam for a long moment, then leans in and kisses his cheek. "I love you," he murmurs. "Thank you for all my surprises. Even if they turn out soggy."

Sam grins. "I love you too and you're welcome." Glad Ryan seems to have recovered from earlier. "We'll ask to switch to Sunday if it rains tomorrow."

"Okay." Ryan's pretty unconcerned. He doesn't want Sam to be disappointed, of course, but he's already happy. "Are you going to fuck me in that absolutely gigantic bed tonight?"

"What did I tell you about that tie?" Sam says with a nod, eyes sparkling.

Ryan grins ear-to-ear. "Just checking," he murmurs. He smooths his fingers down over the silk, then deliberately returns his attention to his dinner. "I guess I should get my strength up." But in spite of his words, he scoops a few of his mussels onto Sam's plate -- fewer for him to finish, that way.

"See?" Sam says, shaking his head. "Even when you're not cooking for me, you're trying to fatten me up, or maybe slow me down," he teases, putting his arm around Ryan's shoulders, much less interested in his meal than he was before, even though the duck's delicious.

"But then I help you work it all off," Ryan murmurs, grinning against Sam's throat. He forks up a flaky mouthful of fish and lays it on his tongue, moaning softly at the way it melts in his mouth.

"You're making me jealous of your dinner," Sam says, twisting his head so he can kiss Ryan on the mouth.

"Yeah?" Ryan's lips curve against his lover's. "Maybe we can ask them to send dessert up later." And then he can quit behaving for now, before he crumples under the damn strain.

"I'm sure we can do that," Sam says, glancing at their plates. "You sure you got enough to eat?"

"Mm-hmm." Slow learner that he is, Ryan is now busy licking along Sam's throat, food - and manners - pretty much the furthest thing from his mind.

"Upstairs. Now," Sam says, before _he_ stops behaving and starts fondling Ryan right here again. "But first tell Lily thank you and that we'd like our dessert send up later."

"Yes, Sir." Ryan's just grateful that Sam isn't making him crawl to her. He gets up from their table and crosses the dining room with a fresh blush heating his cheeks. "Miss?" he says softly, meeting her eyes directly for what's probably the first time. "May... may we have dessert brought to our room in about an hour?"

Lily nods. "Of course, sir," she says. "I'll bring it up myself."

 _I bet you will_ , Ryan thinks, but keeps the words to himself. He's overly territorial of his sir, he knows, particularly considering how famous Sam is. But he still can't quite quell the feeling. He meets Sam at the foot of the grand staircase, linking their fingers together with a smile.

Kissing Ryan with a quick lick into his mouth, Sam pulls him back upstairs, unlocking their room as quickly as he can and pushing Ryan inside. "Tie," he demands, holding his hand out.

"Yes, Sir." Ryan grins and swiftly unknots his necktie, laying the deep blue silk across Sam's palm. He's totally at ease once more now that they're in the privacy of their room, and can barely contain a shiver of anticipation.

"Good. Now get naked," Sam says with a grin, leaning back against the door, the tie held loosely in one hand. "And give me a show."

Ryan's smile goes a little shy, a little sly. He bends over to untie his shoes first, figuring to get those out of the way. Then he lets his suit jacket slip from his shoulders. Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttons his shirt with careful movements, baring his chest just a tiny bit more each time he works his way down. He tugs the tails from his trousers and then slides his hands up his chest with a moan, tipping his head back in pleasure as his fingers brush his nipple rings.

"You are _so_ beautiful," Sam murmurs, mesmerized, his cock filling steadily, already starting to ache.

Warming beneath the praise, Ryan rolls his shoulders, letting his shirt fall to the floor. He unbuckles his belt, slowly pulling it from its loops, and then drapes the leather around his neck before slowly drawing down his zipper. The sigh of pleasure is no exaggeration when he cups his cock, stroking along its length until it again juts from his open fly.

"Hold onto that belt," Sam tells him, working open his own trousers and slowly fisting his cock. "And keep stroking."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan whispers, opening his eyes to watch Sam. And god, his knees go weak in an instant. He works his cock with long slow pulls, root to tip. But his attention is wholly on his lover.

Fuck. Sam can barely breathe with the tension in the air between them. "Play with your P.A.," he orders, so fucking hard now. "Hurt yourself for me."

Ryan whimpers softly. He closes one hand around his balls, holding them tight against his cock. And with his other hand he pinches the titanium ring, jerking the piercing hard and then harder, until he cries out, loud in the stillness of their room.

Sam's cock throbs in his fist and he groans, soft and ragged. "That's it, boy. Harder."

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, Ryan tries to swallow the whimpers back. He works the ring through his piercing, twisting it back and forth until it starts to feel like he might go mad from the stimulation to his urethra. Then he yanks it again, tears bursting into his eyes with his shout.

This time Sam's cock throbs so fucking hard he swears he's going to come. Right there, right then. But he grips the base tight, gritting his teeth and forcing it back and it works. "Get rid of the rest of your clothes," he orders. "Except for the belt. And then you can deal with mine."

"...Sir," Ryan whispers, the acknowledgement barely voiced. He turns his back to Sam and shimmies his trousers down over his hips, bending over to deal with his socks and managing to not lose his balance. Presenting his ass for a moment before he turns back. His hands are shaking just a touch when he pushes Sam's jacket from his shoulders, setting it aside on a wingchair before unbuttoning his lover's shirt.

"I'm going to beat you with your belt," Sam says softly but firmly, watching Ryan closely. "Bruise your ass completely and then fuck you."

Ryan shudders at the words but somehow manages to continue his task. "Yes, Sir," he whispers. Sam's shirt follows his jacket, and then Ryan kneels down on the carpet, only just restraining himself from touching Sam's cock with hand, mouth, cheek, before he slides his lover's trousers down his long legs.

Sam steps out of his trousers and waits for Ryan to get to his feet. He ties the gag around his lover's head, knotting it securely in back and nipping sharply at Ryan's lower lip before he nudges him towards the bed. "Brace yourself against the end and spread your legs."

Nodding, Ryan leans over the sleigh bedframe and splays his hands on the mattress. His cock is spike-hard and his heart is racing, adrenaline pumping through him already. He spreads his thighs just a bit wider, until he feels completely open and vulnerable.

"Look at this," Sam breathes, stepping up close, his hand between Ryan's cheeks, stroking over his already-slicked hole. "Such a slut for me." The sight of Ryan's tattoo, as always now, making his cock jerk and go wet at the tip.

It's so fucking hard not to melt into Sam's touch, rub back against his fingers -- conditioned response that it is. Instead Ryan limits himself to angling his hips back and offering himself up for more.

Christ, Sam loves this. Loves Ryan. Loves that his boy is so hot and eager and fuck, opens like _that_ when he pushes two fingers into his hole.

Ryan whimpers into his gag. He clamps his muscles down around Sam's fingers, trying to take him deeper, take more. Too damn on edge to be patient and wait for what he's given... not that he's ever been much good at that, anyway.

"Such a hungry hole," Sam says, pushing a third finger into Ryan, easily distracted by how hot and tight and soft inside his lover feels.

Whining around his mouthful of silk, Ryan rocks back. Fucking himself on Sam's fingers now, his breathing going choppy and precome pearling up around his P.A.

Fuck. "Change of plan," Sam tells him, setting the belt down on the bed. He twists his fingers deeper, harder, then slips his other hand between Ryan and the bed and slaps his cock.

Ryan cries out, taken totally by surprise. His cock jerks, balls immediately beginning to draw up tight in protectiveness. Then he whimpers into his gag and fucks himself harder on his lover's fingers.

"You like that, don't you?" Sam says with a grin, knowing damn well it's only his fingers in his boy's ass that's keeping the pain from being too much. He slaps Ryan's cock again and then harder, forcing a fourth finger into his ass when he tightens up.

 _Oh god oh god oh god_. Fire blazes through Ryan and he moans, rocking back and forth between the torment of Sam's hand and the punishing drive of his fingers. Wanting more of either and simultaneously trying to retreat from both.

Cupping Ryan's balls in his hand, Sam squeezes lightly, letting Ryan know what's coming, thrusting his fingers into his boy's hole and raking them over his prostate with every outward movement.

 _Fuck_. Ryan's whole body tenses up at that warning squeeze, and he fists his hands in the bedspread. His mind is a confused blur, every sense attuned to his sir.

Slowly Sam tightens his grip, watching Ryan's face as he continues fucking him with his fingers, harder than ever before, his hole gaping now, taking every single thrust without resistance.

Ryan cries out around his mouthful, bucking back against Sam. Fuck it hurts it _hurts_ , pain burning through him and shoving him to the edge of orgasm. His cock is fucking dripping now.

Squeezing as hard as he dares, Sam tucks his thumb into his palm and _pushes_. He doesn't expect Ryan can take his whole hand, like this, with just the lube from his prep, but it's hot as hell feeling his body try.

Ryan's eyes fly wide open and he _screams_. He writhes with agony, his nerves overloaded with pain signals. And if it weren't for Sam's hand on his balls it would be all over for him by now. He whines into his tie, rubbing against the bedframe and trying to get some distracting friction on his cock.

"Did I say you could do that, boy?" Sam growls, but it's all for show. He releases Ryan's balls and slaps his cock again, once twice and again, fucking the widest part of his hand into Ryan's already-battered hole.

Tears stream down Ryan's cheeks, and he struggles to form recognizable words. "Please," he begs, so fucking certain he's going to come any second, and trying with every cell of his body to hold back. "Please!"

"Go ahead boy," Sam nods, giving Ryan's cock another vicious slap, most of his hand wedged in his boy's ass. "Come for me."

Ryan screams, and shatters. He claws at the bedframe, trying to keep himself upright when he's so fucking overwhelmed, prick spurting hot and his body overloaded with agony until it feels he might go numb with it.

"Good boy. That's it," Sam says, wrapping his fingers around Ryan's cock and stroking him through every last aftershock. "Let me have it. Every last fucking drop."

His chest hitching hard, Ryan whines, trying to curl back against his lover but brought up short by the - _fuck god dammit_ \- fucking dry hand in his ass. "Please," he mumbles, wet silk gagging him. A shudder rocks through his body. "Please."

"No. You're going to stay standing for me, boy," Sam tells him, pulling his hand out and slowly pushing his cock in, taking advantage of the gape before Ryan's body can close. "And you're gonna make me come, aren't you?" His hands on Ryan's hips, pulling him back onto him.

Ryan moans, aborting a reach back, only remembering just in time to keep his hands where they are. He nods, moving on Sam and trying to work his cock deeper. His hole still stings fiercely but the need to take his lover in trumps everything else.

"That's it, boy. Come on," Sam demands, firming up his stance. "Fuck yourself on me. Show me how much you want this cock."

Whimpering, Ryan clutches at the massive bedframe for leverage. He angles back, feeling every inch of Sam's cock slide slowly in and out of his body. But it doesn't stay slow for long. His heart races and his hips pick up speed, until his breaths tear harshly through his lungs and he slams himself open on Sam again and again.

"Oh, god, fuck," Sam groans, tilting his head back and just _feeling_. Holding out as long as he can before his whole body seizes tight and his cock throbs, pulsing hotly, thickly into Ryan's hole, filling him completely.

Ryan cries out, feeling every searing drop like a brand. The tendons in his arms stand out, every muscle in his body going rigid as he works to make it even better for his lover. Shaking and sweating and _needing_ , god.

Pulling out, Sam drops to his knees, spreading Ryan's cheeks and shoving his face between them, his tongue into Ryan's hole.

Now Ryan fucking _howls_. He can barely even keep his feet anymore, and slumps heavily against the bed. God, Sam is going to fucking end him -- the play of his wicked tongue over raw sensitive skin, the emotional impact of Sam taking him so brutally and then going to his knees to touch him so gently.

Sam searches out every last drop he poured into Ryan and then sits back, rocking to his feet, sliding his arms around his lover and hugging him back against his chest before reaching up to remove the gag from his mouth.

Ryan licks his lips the moment he's able, then turns in the circle of Sam's arms with a whimper. He simply clings for long moments, just needing.

"My good boy," Sam murmurs, kissing the side of Ryan's throat and holding him close, so close.

"Lie down with me," Ryan begs in a whisper. "Please." Because he knows he's rapidly nearing his limit for how much time he can remain on his feet, but fuck he doesn't want to let go of Sam.

"Yeah, of course," Sam says, kissing Ryan softly. He gets them both under the covers and pulls Ryan into his arms, holding him close.

Relaxing now, Ryan drapes himself over Sam and settles into his lover. "I love you," he whispers, the words smeared against Sam's throat. He's perfectly content now. So what if the lights are still blazing. So what if someone's knocking at the door. So... _What?_ Ryan lifts his head at the noise, tension flooding him again in an instant. "Was I too loud?"

"Not even close, not with your tie in your mouth," Sam grins, glancing at the clock. "I bet that's our dessert though. I'll get it."

"Our...? Oh, right." Ryan had completely forgotten about dessert; hell, he'd forgotten there was a world outside this room. Sam just does that to him. Reluctantly he rolls off his lover, plumping the pillows and sitting up against the headboard to watch Sam's naked ass as he climbs out of bed.

"Coming," Sam calls, snagging his trousers from the floor and pulling them up over his hips. He opens the door to find Lily standing there with a tray.

"Your boy asked me to bring this up to you," she says softly. "It's crème brulee with homemade macadamia and chocolate biscotti. I also brought up some tea and some bottles of water just in case."

"Thank you," Sam says, taking the tray from her and turning to place it on the dresser, careful to keep Ryan shielded behind the door.

Lily blushes. "Is there any chance I could get your autograph?" she asks as he rifles with his wallet, handing her a few bills for tip.

Listening in, Ryan rolls his eyes. They're on their holiday, for fuck's sake. It's so damn unprofessional. And of course Sam is too good a guy to tell her to fuck off, even though he has every right to do so.

He's conveniently forgetting, of course, how he went all gushy over Sam the first time he met him, too.

"Sure," Sam says with a smile, taking the piece of inn stationary she gives him and smoothing it out against the door. "You have a pen?"

She hands one over, beaming at him, unable to take her eyes off his chest. God, he's so hot. Even more so in person. "Could you make it out to Carrie?" she asks. "C-A-R-R-I-E. That's my girlfriend. We're both fans but she's a HUGE fan and this will be good for any number of screw-ups," she tells him with a soft laugh.

 _God_. Not just a pretty girl. But a _bisexual_ pretty girl, whose girlfriend is likely pretty as well, and she's oozing all over Ryan's boyfriend.

Suddenly, Ryan's not feeling as wiped-out as he was thirty seconds ago.

"Hey," he says, coming up behind Sam and giving Lily a smile, and yeah, he's still completely fucking naked. "That smells amazing. What'd you say you brought us?"

"It's crème brulee with homemade macadamia and chocolate biscotti," Lily says, blushing hard when she realizes Ryan is naked. "I'm really sorry to have bothered you both, but I'm not working the rest of the weekend and I thought this might be my only chance."

"It's no bother at all," Sam says, taking the time to write a few words for both Lily and her girlfriend.

 _Only chance for what?_ Ryan wonders, but he's not asshole enough to ask that question aloud. "Thanks," he says instead, picking up the tray off the dresser and taking it back to the bed with him. It's not like she's there to see him, anyway; Sam can deal with her.

"You're welcome. Thank you," she says to Sam when he hands the paper and her pen back. "I hope you both have a wonderful weekend. Maybe I'll see you in New York!"

"Yeah, maybe," Sam responds, nodding, not wanting to burst her bubble or seem rude. "Take care. Enjoy your weekend and say hi to your girlfriend for us," he says, giving her a wave and closing the door.

"Stressful, being you," Ryan remarks from his mountain of pillows on the bed, dragging one of the biscotti through custard and laying it on a plate for Sam. "All that constant barrage of silent hopeful begging that you'll do a complete stranger against the wall." He licks vanilla cream from his thumb, moaning softly at how decadently good it is. "I mean, as opposed to all that ridiculously noisy begging from people you already know."

"Well, I'm only interested in the begging from people I already know," Sam says, shedding his trousers and climbing back into bed. He kisses Ryan firmly on the mouth and then collapses beside his plate. "Good?"

"Very good." Ryan dips his finger into the crème brulee and then draws his fingertip across Sam's lips. "Did you ever -- scratch that," he says, cutting himself off with a roll of his eyes. "How many times have you been with a couple bisexual women at the same time?"

Sam licks his lips and softly groans. Very good is right. "I don't know. Maybe a dozen or so," he says, taking a bite of dipped biscotti as well.

Ryan nods, trying to keep his lips from twitching into a stupid stupid _stupid_ frown. "I've only done it once," he adds, not that Sam asked. "And, obviously, I wasn't really impressed.

""Yeah, but you don't really like women," Sam says. "Watching two girls together and then getting to fuck them both..." Christ. He grins.

 _Christ_. Ryan spoons up custard and won't let himself reply to that. He does sternly remind himself, however, that this entire weekend holiday trip is in honor of his birthday. Because Sam loves him and wants to make him happy. "What time should I set the alarm clock for?" he asks, changing the subject entirely.

"We're supposed to be out there at eight, probably need to leave here by quarter after seven, there's a full breakfast starting at six," Sam says, working his way back. "I don't know. Five-thirty?" Which almost makes him cringe. Sunday. They're fucking sleeping in Sunday, that's for sure.

"Okay." Five-thirty doesn't bother Ryan. He eats the last bite of his biscotti and then licks crumbs and cream from his fingers before turning to set the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Do we need to pack a lunch or anything like that? Or just bring ourselves?" Yeah, maybe he's trying to gather clues about where they're going tomorrow. Just maybe.

"Nah. We'll grab something out after," Sam says, covering his mouth with his hand as he yawns. He finishes his part of dessert and moves the tray outside their door, locking up for the night before climbing back in bed. "There's a few pretty towns near here. Might be kind of fun to explore a little if you want. Take that hike."

"Sure." Ryan shuts off the bedside lights and then pulls the down comforter and blankets over them, wrapping himself happily around his lover. He lays his head on Sam's chest and smiles, listening to his heartbeat. "Whatever you want."  



End file.
